I decided I wanted something a bit different for my LJ. It’s still one of their layouts (cause I’m lazy like that), but I like it okay.

Got my 3rd job rejection today. I’m doing really well, aren’t I? No wonder people give up on job searches. It’s not worth it when I’m not even getting INTERVIEWS. Bah. I must face it. I’m stuck. And I suck. I’ll never be good enough to anyone to move on, so I’ll be here, doing this forever. What a depressing thought.

What is it with everyone wanting to be fulfilled by their jobs anyway? I’m sure those working the same job for 50 years fashioning rivets weren’t fulfilled. They didn’t make their careers/jobs their identity. They did what they had to do to get food on the table. I hate thinking that I have to resort to that. I spend SO MUCH TIME at work, is it fair that I have to feel worthless 95% of the time? I just have to try not to be jealous of those who love their jobs and who get paid at least twice as much as I do to do something they LOVE. Why is it this way? I have a college degree, and yet, I’m being told I’m not talented enough for jobs that require only high school diplomas. How does this make sense? I have years and years of experience, but there are these jerks who have better credentials than me jumping in and pushing me out, and it’s so competitive out there. I picked the wrong dang major in college and totally screwed myself. Now, I’m no one special. I don’t stand out. So, why should I even try anymore?

It smells like old pizza on our floor because people don’t believe in picking up after themselves. I mean, for goodness sake, the pizza was here on Wednesday. Get with it folks. Gross.

Oh yeah, I forgot one more crappy thing that happened. My favorite sunglasses broke. Luckily, not the sexy glasses. No, those I just can’t find. But my driving ones are broken. I’m fortunate it’s been overcast the past few days.

I’m looking forward to Vegas. Now that it’s really close, I’m getting excited. I need to get away. I’ve been a right bitch the past few days and I’ve been taking it all out on Chris. 🙁 I just need to… regroup or something.

Hopefully, the retreat advance tonight will get me focused on something other than my patheticness. Okay, I know those of you lovely people commented and told me that I’m NOT pathetic, and maybe I believe this deep down. But it’s those little things again. Those little fiery darts that are piercing me and burning away a little more at my confidence each day. And I’m going to say “little” a few more time to be really annoying.

little little little little little

Anyway. I think I’m going to eat McDonalds. Because I’m allowed to have it today. And it’s going to be good. Dang it.

This week has been trying, to say the least. Seems that no matter what I do to try to stay happy and optimistic, something happens to try to push me back down. And Lord knows I’m trying to keep smiling. I just don’t know how much longer I’ll be able to hold on.

I applied for another Communications Specialist position, only to be told I’m “talented” but not talented enough. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do. To hear the “people that matter” talk, I’m a crappy secretary. Because “doing your job” is not good enough at Nationwide. The decision-makers don’t believe I’m good enough to do what I LONG to do, so where does that leave me? I feel worthless, stupid, and like my life (in the career sense) is a waste. Will I ever be good for anything?

My car. Of course, the guy glanced at it and said “I can’t repair this. I have to replace it. It’s going to cost you $324.00.” So much for debt reduction. Seems I can’t ever get ahead.

I had a coupon for 5 free pieces of cardstock at Archivers last night. I’d picked out cool colors. Then I lost the coupon. Someone got MY free cardstock. Such a little thing, and it’s not like I don’t have 3489572985789 pieces of cardstock already, AND it wasn’t Bazzil, so I shouldn’t be this down about it. But I am.

There are lots of little things adding up and really starting to weigh on me. Being stuck behind drivers who smoke in traffic. Freezing because if I turn on the heater, all of their smoke will get sucked into my car and I have to smell the stench. Freezing at work. Sitting across a guy I knew from college who thinks it’s fun to laugh at me because he’s still pissed at me for something that happened over 10 years ago. I tell myself I don’t care about this stuff, but apparently I do.

I worry about everything. I want to think that I don’t care what people think of me, but that’s such bull. I do care. I walk away from every encounter wondering if I did something to piss someone off. I always wonder if I’m behaving in a way to evoke suspicion as to the real parts of me that I keep hidden from the majority of the world. I read cryptic messages and wonder if they are about me, and I analyse every action, every syllable to see if *I* did something to make someone write those kinds of things. Yes, just a little bit egocentric. I beat myself up for having done hurtful and stupid things to people years and years ago. What good does the self-beration do now? Logically, I know this! Yet, my heart won’t follow my brain.

My coworker Susan is going through this body detox program. She is on a strict diet and takes lots of vitamins and minerals and drink lots of water. She’s only been on it a few days and she says she feels great already. I wonder if there are similar programs for our brains. A detoxifier to clear out all the guilt and the pain and the shame and the hurt and the evil and the thoughts and all the immorality. I try to give it all to God…but I’m not so talented at letting go.

Today, my boss is out of the office. His sister-in-law is seriously ill. She’s only 30 and has a 10 month old. She may die, and she’s only 30. That’s how old I’m going to be in December. If I died at 30, would I even be missed? Did I even do anything worthy? Did my life glorify God? They’d wonder why was I so hesistant to take risks and follow my dreams?. People would read my journals and hate me. They’d hate what I hide from them. They’d hate my secrets. My memory would not be revered by some.

Perhaps I should burn the journals.

I’m trying to focus on the good things. I have a job. I can still drive my car. Kelly S (itskels) and I have been emailing and that’s been going great. (I know a lot of Kellys) I’m going to Las Vegas next week. I have friends out the wazoo. And how can I forget how amazing Tuesday night was for me?

I have so many dreams. So many. Sometimes, I feel like I am more special than the life I’m living. Does that make sense? Like, I can’t just accept that I’m meant to be a normal, typical, suburban person. I want more. I need more. I did my personality inventory the other night, and I got “Artisan Performer.” I can’t remember the intitials. But it’s true. I long to be more than I am. And there are times I feel I can make it. That I WILL be a bestselling author. But then reality hits. And I get overwhelmed at the whole process, and I’m think to myself “there is no way I can do this.” Oh, but I want it to badly!

I don’t like feeling like this. I’m trying to cheer myself up. I’m listening to “empowering” music. But none of it is speaking to me. How will I get out of this funk?

I know that I’m better off not having that job. It’s in Nationwide Financial, and I hated working for them. But it would have been writing. WRITING. I need to find writing jobs. Ones that pay. I get the emails with the markets and what they pay, and I file them away, thinking “someday.” Someday needs to be soon. As in before the end of 2004 soon.

I’m really trying to believe there is something else, something better for me. Something more suited to my skills and passions. Something that will continuously WOW my bosses. Or perhaps, I can be my own boss someday. I just think writing is my only way out, and so I have to crank it out.

Alright. I have stuff to do, and I might do some mindless surveys. Later….