Strongly Worded

Back to the Land of the Living

So I've survived the event from hell: the two-part, 16-day event I've been bitching about for the last billion years. On Wednesday, I experienced a minor meltdown (which took the form of an unprofessional office rant), and I sat in my chair and put my head between my knees because it didn't seem humanly possible that I would get through the next two days. It seemed impossible that the event would ever be over.

And then, not-so-suddenly, it was. On Friday afternoon, I was crawling on my hands and knees picking paper clips off the conference room floor (dubbed "mission control" for the duration - it was the setting of my and my five student workers' toil - a windowless room with no phone and no cell service, that I came to associate with a coal mine). And then I threw out the paper clips and stood up and walked out and closed that godforsaken door behind me and got the fuck out of there.

I don't know what else to say about it. I'm so glad it's done. It went well, and I got great feedback from industry partners and students.

Anyway. It may already be obvious but I am relieved but not joyful. I have to deal with the boxes of random papers and supplies that the event puked up. I have to write thank you notes and stuff. And figure out what my job is, now that my foster job is pretty much done. My boss needs to figure that out, actually, and while she has been talking for a long time about keeping me on, there's no concrete information to back that up. I have other applications in, but have thus far gotten no love from other employers, despite my glorious semester at the Very Prestigious School (VPS) where I currently work. I hope(d) that having VPS on my resume would catapult me out of the purgatory known as Switching Career Fields, but thus far it has not.

To further reduce my joy, my old boyfriend (not Banter Boy, the ex who is dating that slut with the dumb name) just called me, and he's practically moving in with some chick about whom I know too little to scorn (but if you want to spew about how inferior she is to me - just by definition - I won't object). This gives me further impetus to get my ass back on JDate or Match or the purgatory known as Internet Dating Du Jour, but the aforementioned ass is extremely weary.

I wish I had something redeeming to add, but other than the delightful upcoming visit of my Californian friend R.I.B.S., the horizon is looking rather bleak. Like my beloved friend Melinda, I am feeling some serious Seasonal Affective Disorder coming on.

Posted by Dori at 1:29 PM