Email, opened

If it were late, late on a Tuesday night and you were my brother, you would be getting, which only a few minor changes, this email from me. You might be sitting up in your hotel room, with your dog and your bike and your laptop, all included in the orbit that has followed you on your extended business trip, and you might be checking your email. Or more likely, given that he is two time zones further east, you would be sleeping and it would be too cold, or too hot, as hotel rooms always are. And I would be here, writing to you.

I try not to crib from emails when I blog-- it just seems like bad form-- but tonight I sat down fully feeling like I had only tiny little bit of something to share, and lo, it became more and made me feel as though I'd actually been Doing Things in recent days, and that feeling was just too delicious and rare to pass up. So here, like some scribbly found art, like one of Paris Hilton's silly letters from prison, is most of that email:

Pants is on duty tonight and it's too late to call, but I wanted to share some good news-- I finally got a call back about one of the jobs I've applied for. It's part-time at the nearby library and doesn't pay a whole hell of a lot, but it's something and if the interview goes well, I'll have a means of getting out of the house and talking to people. Like more than, "Plastic is fine" and "thank you."

I'm supposed to call the woman back tomorrow to set up an interview time. I actually just now got her message because I've gotten deeply out of the habit of checking my phone for messages-- I'm here almost all the time except for when I go out to run, so it's stopped seeming like a good idea to check for missed calls.

Also, my (one) friend J. says that her podiatrist's office (where she works as a medical assistant) is hiring a receptionist this week. I'm not so keen on that avenue because a) it's reception work, and I feel like at least at this juncture, I'd only like to be a receptionist for places where I could conceivably work higher up in the food chain once they get to know me, and b) because I worry that working with my (one) friend J. might put undue strain on the friendship were we to get sick of one another. How to say this though without offending her? Any suggestions?

Yesterday and today I applied for more jobs-- Monday was devoted to paring and shaping my resume and experience to make it seem like I'd be a good sexual health educator. I actually believe this-- penis! dental dam!-- and was excited when they immediately sent me (an admittedly stock) email confirming receipt of my application and letting me know they'd be reviewing it.

I talked to a lady today who works at a company that provides social services so several sovereign Native American nations. They're looking for an adult literacy instructor, but since their internet connection is down, she's mailing me the application. Could be interesting, though relying on the postal service to communicate seems like a bad omen.

Today I also applied for another position at the university, this time as a Library Assistant. Despite what it sounds like, it actually pays quite well. The not-so-great part is that it looks to be for many closing shifts, including weekends, which would take me right out of the partying/possibly meeting people scene. Since that scene has yielded little besides my (one) friend J. so far, and has predictably evolved into a bland and recurring series of "Let's drink and watch a movie" nights, perhaps this isn't a bad thing.

Side note, minor irritation: there's apparently a TV hierarchy in effect now-- N. (one of Pants's buddy M.'s two roommates) bought this massive fucking TV and now everyone refuses to watch movies on anything smaller, like our own silly little 19 incher with the now-antiquated convex front. N.'s TV, if laid facedown on the ground, would cover enough surface area so that underneath one could dig a grave for a child easily into the fourth grade. When you consider the modest size of their living room, it feels like the TV constitutes an extra wall, and like anything you watch on it automatically becomes that much more overbearing, like what we watched Monday-- "Caddyshack." (Avoid that one when you're in a funk.) It makes me want to trade in our tube for a smaller one, maybe with a clacking turn dial and rabbit ears.

Anyway. Tomorrow I may or may not drop off my resume at the podiatrist. There's also a grant writer position for a civil and environmental engineering firm that I may apply for. That one's frustrating-- website's under construction so I can't research the specific company, and I have only the barest Wikipedia-augmented knowledge of environmental engineering. All I know is that the Central Valley could use a lot of it.

Love you and hope all's going well-- hug your dog for me,

Rachel