The jury is still out

Daniel is on the interview board at the police department. He really loves doing this as part of his job - he gets to know the applicants, and he gets to be nosy, which is one of his favorite pastimes. I have never given much thought to the days when he suits up and goes "for interviews" but today opened my eyes.

I am still doing the job search thing, and I had an interview today. My past experiences with interviews (I can recall 6 off the top of my head) have involved myself and a potential supervisor discussing my qualifications and the position they were seeking to fill. I have NEVER had to sit before a panel and answer questions. Until today.

It was me against a team of teachers. The seven women had papers in front of them. They fired questions at me. When I answered, they all bent dutifully over their papers and wrote notes. I felt like I was sitting before a grand jury. The questions were generic and ambiguous:

What are your strengths? (organization, efficiency)
What could you bring to the team? (uh... what?)
Where do we fit in to your long term goals? (define "long term")
What would you do (oooh-oooh!) for a Klondike bar? (anything but this)

I left feeling like those people didn't know me any better than when I had first walked through the door. Is this really an effective way to interview someone for a job? Were they just screening me for obvious social dysfunction, and maybe will call me back later?

I asked Daniel if this is what he does when he is interviewing. He laughed and said that it isn't so much WHAT you say, but HOW you say it, and how confident you are. Sheesh. Why didn't he tell me that before I went? I coulda saved myself a lot of worry about the content of my answers, as long as I said them with conviction, right?

"I could bring COOKIES to the team! Every week!"

New post, mostly cause I am tired of reading hotlink commentary

Alright, I am kind of sick of the duty post, too. But I have to leave for school in 16 minutes. And I don't have much to say.

I have been obsessively watching Anchorman again. I can quote the whole movie. Sometimes I will randomly have conversations with Daniel that incorporate dialog from that movie, and he doesn't even realize it. COME ON! It is ANCHORMAN!

I DON'T KNOW WHAT WE'RE YELLING ABOUT!!!

Duty is a funny word

There are certain kinds of foods that are Man Foods, and certain kinds that are Woman Foods. I don't mean to be sexist but it is true.

For instance: sorbet. Definitely a Woman Food. Also, chocolate covered strawberries, and Pepperidge Farm Milano cookies (original, not Mint, please).

Man Foods include all types of gristly, fatty meats and things that taste like flatulance. (NO, I don't KNOW what that tastes like, but I can imagine.)

Daniel has a friend from Pittsburg. Not Pennsylvania. Texas.

What? You haven't heard of it? That is so weird because Pittsburg is famous. They are famous for hotlinks. Now, hotlinks are defintely a Man Food.

When Daniel found out about these awesome hotlinks, he requested some from his friend and that is how I ended up with a pile of them on my counter last night. Pictures are worth a thousand words, so I will let this photo speak for itself. Hopefully, it will not only explain why hotlinks are a Man Food, but also why I did not partake in this "meal."

Held

In the course of everyday life, sometimes things happen that totally rock the boat.

This week we had a tragic death in our community. Daniel came home from work and told me about it Monday, and since then, it has been like a lump in my throat. I strain to swallow, but it won't go away. It is constantly there. My heart feels so heavy for this family. I have tried to put myself in everyone else's shoes - the person who died, the mother, the sister. It is really consuming me, and that is not healthy.

It is so hard to not have answers. Why? and How will they go on? and again, Why?

I linked to this song a few months ago, but here are the lyrics again. Without God, I think life would literally be too much to bear at times.

Two months is too little -

They let him go.

They had no sudden healing.

To think that providence

Would take a child from his mother

While she prays, is appalling.

Who told us we’d be rescued?

What has changed and

Why should we be saved from nightmares?

We're asking why this happens to us

Who have died to live - it’s unfair.

This is what it means to be held -

How it feels, when the sacred is torn from your life

And you survive.

This is what it is to be loved and to know

That the promise was that when everything fell,

We’d be held.

This hand is bitterness.

We want to taste it and

Let the hatred numb our sorrows.

The wise hand opens slowly

To lilies of the valley and tomorrow.

This is what it means to be held.

How it feels, when the sacred is torn from your life

And you survive.

This is what it is to be loved and to know

That the promise was that when everything fell,

We’d be held.

If hope is born of suffering,

If this is only the beginning,

Can we not wait, for one hour

Watching for our Savior?

This is what it means to be held -

How it feels, when the sacred is torn from your life

And you survive.

This is what it is to be loved and to know

That the promise was that when everything fell

We’d be held.

Why...

... oh, why, does Clay Aiken's hair look like that now? Seriously, are we supposed to take him seriously now???

... did Kevin Covias sing a song about Pussycats? Someone did that to him on purpose. The boy can't pronounce s's, okay? Do we have to make a spectacle of him (and his eyebrows)?

... is losing American Idol a "dream come true" for Katharine McPhee? For once, the girl was gracious, but overly so. No one believes that you have been dreaming of losing AI to the gray-haired spaz.

And that is all I have to say about that. Till next year, right?

We're goin' on a job hunt...

I am kind of job hunting. It is exhausting. There is a precarious balance between groveling for any paid position and keeping a cool air of disinterest so that THEY think THEY want you more than you want THEM. Does that make sense?

That is what I have been doing. Exhausting.

I am going back to teaching in the fall. I will be certified to teach a special education class, and with my pre-k experience, I would love to teach little ones again. One of my job opportunities is a Pre-K special ed class with FOUR students. FOUR. Talk about a dream job. But I have to drive about 15 minutes to get there.

I know! 15 MINUTES! GASP!!! But I live in a small town where everything is about five minutes away, so I am struggling with having to spend 30 minutes in commute each day.

So, send up some prayers for me. I need a peace about my decision! I am excited, but also nervous.

Men

Last night, we were watching an episode of Friends before bed. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Daniel lean his head forward a little when Jennifer Aniston walked on scene.

I glanced at him, and the following conversation ensued:

A: What?

D: Was she wearing a thong?

A sighs loudly: Yes. I think she was.

D: silence.

A sighs again: You can rewind it if you need to.

D (relieved): Yeah, I think I do.

Checking in

When I was little, I was a very serious child. Serious and dramatic, so I have been told. I walked around with a serious look on my face, seriously engrossed. I guess I looked unhappy. My mom would try to get me to relax. She would try to get me to smile, but most things didn't work.

Finally, she came up with a game. Looking all around with exaggerated concern, she would say "WHERE is Amanda? WHERE is my Sunshine Girl?" and I would get excited, because I was right in front of her and she couldn't see me! I would smile big and say, "Here I am, Mama! Here is your Sunshine Girl!" all giddy with the idea that I had solved the mystery.

And for a little while, I would relax and smile. I would be her Sunshine Girl!

So, I have been walking around here very seriously of late, consumed with the stresses of daily life. I guess I look unhappy. I know I look busy and engrossed.

But you know what? Here I am!

Help!

I need to find someone's email address. And I don't want to join Reunion.com or Classmates.com. I just want to email the person, and not have to pay $3.95 a month for 36 months for the privilege.

Any sleuths out there know how to do that?

I thought he was smart, but I had no idea he was this advanced!

See you in my dreams

Last week, I went to see my friend at work. She teaches high school math. I was only wearing a sports bra and some pajama pants with monkeys on them. I had to take an escalator to get to her classroom, which I thought was really strange for her tiny school.

When I got to her room, the lights were out. My friend was sitting on a giant beanbag chair and her students were lounging on couches that lined the walls. I took my seat and they began to talk about stuff, but none of it was related to math.

One girl stood up and started shouting about "the turbulance." She ran to the balcony of the classroom and leaned over the rail. We all jumped up and joined her. The classroom was overlooking a wrecking yard. There were junk cars for miles, and I could see that we were in the middle of the desert.

The turbulance girl flung herself over the rail. I didn't see what happened, but one of the other students said, "Dude! That looks like guacamole!"

Any interpretations?

Suppose you had these thoughts

Suppose you are studying for your final exam, and because you are a stress-eater, you fix yourself a Coke float with Blue Bell Vanilla Bean Ice Cream.

Suppose you want to know what the sticky brown stuff is that is on the top of your delicious float.

Suppose you want to know what chemical reaction makes it so sticky and gross.

Suppose you spend time Googling it and then blogging about it because that is better than studying.

How can something so wonderful have such a yucky by-product? (And, no, I am not talking about Dillon.)

Reasons to Celebrate

1) Tonight is my last final. Then I will be able to read all of your blogs and not feel guilty about wasting precious studying time!

2) This is my 300th post! Wooohooo!!!

and most importantly:

3) "And a very, merry half-birthday to YOU!" Go wish Jennboree a happy half-birthday! :)

Yo no soy marinera

Hooray for Cinco de Mayo and the excuse to eat Mexican food with abandon!

Mirror, mirror

Okay, so here is the scenario.

I am just living my life, day-to-day, thinking that I am an okay person. I have friends. I am not a big meanie.

Now, I am not really doing anything to improve myself. Not making efforts to be a nicer person. Not making efforts to be better.

But then today, something happened that made me ashamed of who I am. I opened my mouth and said something I can't take back. I can't fix it. I don't even know how to start. I apologized, but that was completely insufficient because I hurt someone with words, and you can't take that stuff back.

So here I am, trying to express how miserable I feel. And how miserable she must feel because of me.

Because of me.

And I want to be that better person. Is this what has to happen to make us grow?

Bedtime conversations

Monday night:

A: Hey! You know what I forgot to do?

D: What?

A: Get my ribbon out and dance around the maypole!

D: The huh? What are you talking about?

A: Today was May Day.

D: Um, what the heck is a "may day?"

A: It is a holiday - you know, with the ribbons and the poles. May Day.

D: No, 'mayday' is a distress signal, like when your plane is going down or your ship is sinking.

Tuesday night:

A: What did you get me?

D: Nothing. Why?

A: Today is my half-birthday! I am twenty-seven-and-a-half years old!

D: Whatever!

*seeing my serious look*

D: Oh, well then, Happy.

Lesson learned?

I am working furiously on a huge assignment that is due this afternoon. Can you tell?

Here are some subtle hints that let you know how hard I am working:
1) I am all caught up on Law and Order: SVU, and I don't even regularly watch the show.
2) I have sampled most of the snack foods in our house.
3) Dillon's toy basket is organized.
4) I am contemplating getting outside to get some sun on my bright legs.
5) I am also eyeing the elliptical machine.
6) I started a 700-page book.
7) I think I might take a nap with Dillon in a minute.

After twenty-plus years of school, why have I not learned to NOT wait till the last minute?