Zzzz....

Got a house. Got a job for the summer. Work sucked today. Really bad. Not that I hate my job; I like it, for the most part. But, you know, when you try to enforce new regulations, kids 12-18 years old get angry. Based on documented scientific evidence. Time for bed. Oh yes, time for bed. Good night.

So I saw my stalker today....

I am fairly exhausted right now, but perhaps that's because I just ate an entire canister of Barbeque flavored Pringles. So much for being healthy.

I've got some leads on summer jobs, but it would be great to be able to pay my doctor's bills. Right now, I'm watching an old episode of "Saturday Night Live," and Alec Baldwin is hosting for like the billionth time. I'm beginning to get bored by television. Perhaps that's because I don't have much to do with my day, and I'm a freakin workaholic only working part time. It really sucks. But I think I've said that several times, now. I guess it's back to the Department of Labor on Monday.

Trying to be positive here...um...uh....I'll get back to you later. : )

Honors, Shovlin, Dublin, Wal-Mart....

Today is not such a bad day so far. I've got to finish reading my manual, finish writing a letter, possibly call the loan folks, eat some lunch, and go to work. Jenna should be back today. : ) Then, tomorrow, it's back to the Department of Labor and, most likely, the DMV. And I've got to call that woman back about the summer job for that bilingual position. I just want something stable, dammit. The job market totally sucks.

Rachel got Honors--woo hoo!!!

I give up.

My throat's still kind of sore, but maybe that's just the lemonade.

Life sucks. I really want a job. I'm getting increasingly impatient. Went to the Department of Labor earlier this morning, my last resort, and wouldn't you know, their computers were down. It just goes to show, I'm gonna end up a hobo. A hobo with no health insurance. Fat load my college education has done me. At least I got my fat self a walk out of the deal.

Waaaaaaa.

Welcome back to the real world, Melissa.

So I had strep throat for like a million years, and it's finally going away. I can't imagine how much worse it could have been, had I waited more time, past the second day that I felt ill.

I'm feeling pretty calm right now, although there are some unsettled knots in my stomach. Some things, however, are best kept saved for my personal journal, no?

It has just been a super long week. A friend of mine, her grandmother died. It's something that her family had been expecting; she was sick for some time. She's in Pennsylvania right now and won't be back until Wednesday or Thursday, if that. She'll have to give a speech, being the oldest granddaughter, all of that. I felt kind of bad because a few of us went to these one-act plays that a former supervisor of mine was in, on Friday night, and they all sort of accidentally had a death/funeral theme. Not the best thing for her to be seeing right before leaving the wonderful land of Geneva.

We also went to the Colleges' annual Moving Up Day ceremony. Sort of surreal, not knowing many of the people receiving the awards. Before the ceremony, Alex brought me all over hell's half acre--a.k.a. my alma mater's campus--to visit visit visit. It was kind of weird just walking past Demarest (the English building) and not walking in to say any quick hello's to anyone; I figured that it was Friday afternoon, and no one would really be around. The ceremony was different because it was under this tent outside the library; it's usually on top of the hill. But the speakers were the most amusing I've seen yet. It was sort of weird, being there. Alex and I accidentally bumped into a lot of people we knew before the ceremony, so by the time the reception came around, I'd seen most of the people I'd wanted to see, and it was all small talk from there. I hate small talk.

But enough about that stuff. I've been inspired to write a short story. I began it this morning. It's about death.

Friggin strep throat.

I want an electric typewriter.

And another day has passed. I feel as if I am counting down to something; I sense that a lot, lately. To what, I cannot be sure. I feel like I need to write poetry, and the motivation is certainly there, but the words are not. Perhaps I am depressed because there is a very sad episode of "ER" on TV right now. I avoided watching it until I moved to Chicago.

I feel like toast--the kind that springs out of the toaster so quickly that it falls on the floor, and nobody wants it. Amazing how one person can make you feel that way.

I feel like I need to cling to my horoscope because, otherwise, I won't know what to do with myself. Hazy or clear, I am always second-guessing myself.

I feel sad. I feel like I need to cry, but I have a roommate, and she doesn't need to see it.

And what of this, Generation X, Y, Z, whatever I am? I mean, I'm supposed to be happy, right? I've got friends, I've got love. I got away from the bad, bad land of Chi-town, and this is still how I feel. Just different reasons. At least it isn't as bad as when I was there. That's something. And believe me, I'm not ungrateful for what I do have. Just incredibly sad at the moment.

And forgive us our trespasses....

So I went to church not only on Easter, but the night before Easter, as well. Something foreign to me, going to church on a holiday, considering I haven't been to church since that time in high school when there were neon pink and purple electric guitars that disturbed my vision of church as I knew it. This one over the weekend was an Episcopalian one.

So I'm not religious, we all know this. In fact, some might go so far as to say that I adamently avoid religion altogether. But there I was, reciting the Lord's Prayer by heart, even though I haven't uttered it in almost six years, back in the Christian camp days. Those things just sort of stick with you, I guess. I haven't been to church itself in...in...well if Christian camps don't count, and the school chapel doesn't count, and that one time in high school doesn't count, then I haven't been to church since I was eleven.

So what I'm really getting at, here, is that I have this job interview tomorrow and I'm sort of nervous. (How's that for a jump?) I'm not going to write down any details because I don't want to jinx anything. And it might not even be the job itself that makes me nervous, but rather the whole jumping-back-into-the-game thing, you know? It's the only thing in this town that interests me, though, what I'm interviewing for tomorrow.

So I don't even know why I'm writing this entry. I don't have much to say. Oh--I got my computer fixed, I'm on my way to convincing the college loan people not to kill me in my sleep, and I cut my own hair for the first time since the first grade, and that was before picture day and well, it didn't turn out so great that one time. Fortunately, I had better luck this time around. I done gave myself the seven-minute haircut. It turned out shorter than I would have liked--the shortest it's ever been in my entire life, like an inch and a half above my shoulders--but it still looks kinda cute.

More to say, I'm sure, but sleep is upon me. Maybe tomorrow I'll write about how I can't stand hypocrites, wish-wash, and high horses.