I have the weirdest memory.
There are 1,834,283 thoughts running through my head at any given moment, so I like to write things down. I do this on random scraps of paper, Post-Its (more on my Post-It obsession some other time), or in a daily planner on the corresponding day. Then, I continue to write it over and over again on each day (or week) until I take care of it, or decide it really isn't Important anymore.
Usually, however, I think of things (Important Things!) at inopportune times, and have to devise ways to remember said Things until I can get somewhere and write them down. This sometimes entails chanting in my head, or making up a cute song or poem to sing/recite to myself until I get a pen and paper in hand. Sometimes, this involves sending myself an e-mail from my phone. (I am NOT texting and driving! I am e-mailing myself IMPORTANT THINGS! ...Like "go tanning." Er. Anyway.)
Today, I was in yoga. Class was going by pretty slowly, and we were on what is basically the first posture, and I looked down at my toes (I had to; I was preparing to press my face into my shins) and thought "UGH! Someone needs a pedicure!" I spent the rest of class saying "feet, feet, feet, feet, feet, feet" in my head, and falling out of postures because instead of thinking about the muscles I was supposed to use, I was thinking "feet, feet, feet."
I finally got home and wrote "pedicure" on my planner, but I doubt I'll actually do it anytime soon. I tend to ruin pedicures from my constant yoga/working out, and I have given up on trying to grow my toenails out for that elusive French pedicure. Not going to happen. At least not if I ever have to stand, walk, or wear shoes. *sigh*
One look at my planner and you will see that I am somewhat of a procrastinator. At least, on paper. See, I tend to expect waaaaaaaaaaay too much out of one day. Work 7 hours, work out 2.5 hours (plus the extra hour spent waiting for yoga to start and showering off the sweat afterwards), play with puppies, prepare meals, check e-mail, pick up some grapefruit, clean the kitchen, get gas...and this is before I do anything that isn't day-to-day, normal stuff. So really, the fact that little words like "pedicure" and "mend sweaters" and "return shoes" recur on the pages of my planner are not testament to my tendency to procrastinate, but more proof that I am busy and I expect too damn much out of myself (we won't go into the fact that a few short years ago, I was seemingly a cyborg or at the very least, a superhero, and could do all sorts of things on no sleep and never get tired. what happened?)
The word that is constantly written, and constantly bothering me, is "resumes." I have been collecting job ads like a crazy, hoarding, pack-rat bag lady, but I have applied to exactly ONE of those jobs. Lately, I am just not inspired to write cover letters and bug people for recommendations. Not inspired to find a creative way to explain an employment gap due to being so sick I could not even check the mail and not knowing what the hell was wrong. Not inspired to examine a past that is not nearly as impressive as it "should" have been, according to my grades and ACT scores and everyone's expectations. Not inspired to wonder whether that great job description is really just a good writer's exaggeration of a position as a coffee-fetching secretary.
But that has to change. Last night, I found the best job posting. Actually, two job postings. Both deal with publishing, but they are very different. One of them sounds better, but I am not sure if I am really, truly qualified. My saving grace is the fact that they ask for work samples, and you'd better believe they are getting the before-and-afters of my current work's newsletters. The job has been open for months, so maybe they will try something a little different.
Besides, what is the worst that can happen? They won't call me. It's not like someone will take the time to call and say "Ha-ha, loser, you thought you could stand a chance, but you are SO unqualified. YOU SUCK!!!"
Because that is something that I would definitely not have to write down to remember. I just would...forever.
Date #6 tonight. Don’t have high hopes, talking to him is a bit like pulling teeth. Feels like I’m doing all the work. I ask him questions, he responds....