Thanks again. You guys are the bestest.
It seems, thankfully, that the doctor was right. This ick is passing on its own, however slowly. Not everything will pass, as allergies have returned and that means a host of problems for little singing me, but the fever broke (again) and it seems like its gone for good. While swelling hasn't disappeared, it has visibly lessened making is much easier to eat, swallow, talk, et al.
YAY!
With any luck, I will not be shown to have spoken too soon.
As for that job...
I was supposed to hear yesterday one way or another. I never heard a thing. While this could mean it took longer to make the decision, it could mean she simply left out the people she doesn't want to hire. That would suck most dearly. I sent her an email just to get confirmation one way or another. Now I wait again.
DISCLAIMER: While this next session explains the roots of my occasional depression, I AM PERFECTLY FINE NOW. Thank you for your concern in advance.
SPOILERS! (Click to view)
The depression that struck me this morning had dual sparks. The lack of contact from Lush and the insistence of my company director on committing to difficult rehearsal dates when I know a job has to be my priority merged into the preexisting web of self-pity and self-hatred that has developed ever so slowly over the past month.
It all ultimately comes back to the impression of myself that I believed for so many years. I was always an A+ student, most every professor expressed that I could easily go places in this academic discipline or that one. My folks were delighted by that, and my dad insisted that I not work while in school for many years just so I could keep up that academic focus, exploring some piece of that potential. I had ever so much potential in so many areas. I appreciated that, and followed my heart to the stage.
Unfortunately, I hadn't considered that following my heart would require developing discipline, confidence to spare, and a lack of entanglements that kept me NY bound. It becomes clear that the first dream may not become reality as a profession, though it can keep me happy as a hobby.
Unfortunately, I have no dream to replace it with.
(That truth left me heartbroken, but I'm dealing with it better all the time.)
So now, I just search for a job that will pay we well enough so I can move out with my boyfriend and possibly my sister which still giving me flexibility so I can attend my already-scheduled rehearsals. That means no late nights (ok) and no Friday Mornings (woah). That last one is a killer.
The need to get money to move out is not simply a result of feeling too old to be living with my folks though that feeling is certainly there. While my father was super as I grew up (I considered him my best friend for years), he is now impossible to live with. I won't explain here; just know that living with him drains the joy from my existence.
Remember that point where my dad didn't like me working while in school? Yeah. I started working part time late in my college career. I went from retail to stage managing (which I'm good at but frequently leaves me a shell of a person) to babysitting to some puppet shows for toddlers (which really isn't paying). That's it. I also temped in an office for a grand total of two days though I lie and make it seem like more.
So my job experience is minimal, my ability to learn is still very high (several interviewers have considered me "too bright"), my availability is erratic, and my desperation to find something that fits has increased 1,000,0000 fold. I have absolutely no money to go back to school, so I must work with what I've got. This process gets more frustrating by the hour.
And as I am my father's daughter, I must spend each step of the process fighting the urge to become fatalistic, stopping before I start.
I wish I was more employable.
The whole process is overshadowed by the feeling I have already failed, that my potential has been wasted by poor choices.
Depressing, ain't it?
Something will be found. Until then, this mess will still recur in teary-eyed spurts. Pity my loving boyfriend.
EDIT: Lush didn't hire me. Around 30 people interviewed for 25 slots and they didn't hire me.
Oh my God, what did I do wrong?
But I believe in you. And you are going to find that "something"... of this, I have no doubt. You haven't failed... you've merely yet to find exactly where to *attempt*.