Breakthrough?

I feel like it's okay to complain about being unemployed as long as you're detached about it. Everyone needs to blow off steam once in a while. Students bitch about how much homework they have; people in the workforce spend Friday nights drinking beer and trading bad-boss stories. It's natural. Likewise, I can tell a story about how I've followed up on my Tom-Thumb-Starbucks-kiosk application six times and have yet to meet the hiring manager, and as long as it's a funny story, no harm no foul. But when I start getting bent out of shape about it — when a student really gets pissed that he has to do all this goddamn studying, or when an employee genuinely resents having to show up at 9:00 every morning — that's a line that's hard to drift back across.

I'm getting bitter. I'm becoming a person that I don't necessarily like. In college, I finally came into my own as a person - I developed this persona of quiet, laid-back confidence. And even if it was an act sometimes, I liked being that guy. My friends liked that guy. Even a couple girls liked that guy. But now, being home, not having anyone to talk to or hang out with, not having anything to do or anywhere to go all day, I'm just getting...bitter.

I don't know how to come back from it. I'm trying to find ways to stay positive, but no dice so far. I'm afraid that I might be pushing away the friends that I do have - I've been very negative lately, and not in the I'm-just-having-a-bad-day way. I feel like I'm a downer to be around and to talk to. And seeing how I'm trying to make friends around here, that's not necessarily the best way to go about it.

Scenario

Picture this.

You're at a restaurant. You've just sat down, you haven't even gotten your water yet, when you spot a girl on the other side of the room. Now, you've never believed in love at first sight. Maybe you're tired. Maybe you're stressed from work. Maybe the last twenty minutes of "You've Got Mail" that you caught on cable last night pushed your brain past the limit of how much bullshit the media can pump in before it starts believing in it a little. But you see this girl, and in the snap of a finger, you just know she's supposed to be an important part of your life.

Problem is, she's leaving - she's already halfway to the door, in fact. Without conscious thought you stand up to intercept her. "Hi," you say.

"Hi," she says back. She's confused but not scared or irritated. You offer your name, she tells you hers. Then, she says, "What can I do for you?"

Only now do you realize how absurd what you're trying to do really is. It makes sense in your head, but you can't bring yourself to say it out loud. What you manage is, "I--I just saw you. From over there, that's my table. I saw you leaving, and--can I buy you a cup of coffee sometime?"

She smiles. Looks down. Looks back up at you. "Are you for real?"

"I think so."

A pause. You haven't come off as aggressive, threatening, or cocky, so a flat-out "no" would seem a little harsh. On the other hand, she's literally been aware of your existence on this planet for less than twenty seconds. You watch these thoughts play out on her face like a movie. She smiles again, but it's a different smile. "Sell yourself," she says.

For a second you think she's talking about money. "I'm sorry?"

"Sell yourself to me. Like an elevator pitch. You want to get coffee with me. I don't know why, but you do. But you haven't given me a reason to want to get coffee with you yet." She looks you in the eye. "Convince me you're someone I want to know. You've got sixty seconds. Go."

What do you say?

Journalism

I'm getting really interested in investigative journalism lately? I read a lot online over the break about Edward R. Murrow, See It Now, how he called McCarthy out on all his bullshit, etc., even listened to some of his old WWII radio broadcasts. Today, on a whim between classes, I checked out "All the President's Men" (Woodward and Bernstein's book about Watergate) and am about 50 pages into it already. Cool stuff.

Let's get personal

I didn't get into ACE, just like I suspected.

The thing is, though, despite what I said before--I really thought I had a shot. I thought there was no way in hell they'd even give me an interview, and they did. It didn't go great, but I thought it went well enough that I might still have been able to pull it off. I started thinking about everything I've done well - Plan II, my GPA, my application essays, the RA thing, etc., and I dared to believe that maybe I wasn't giving myself enough credit. It wasn't a sure thing, by any means, but I really thought I had a 50/50 shot at getting in.

Once again, I've come up just short - I made it two rounds into TFA before they cut me, and I reached the final stage of ACE, too. Getting rejected outright might have been easier on me.

There's more to this story, though. Notre Dame was my top choice for undergrad - it was the first college I visited during junior year of high school, and I fell in love with the campus and the atmosphere. Two of my really good friends (Brian and Jamie) went there, and it would have been great to follow in their footsteps. I applied early acceptance, got deferred, and then got rejected on April 1st.

I guess I saw ACE as my second chance, the possibility of redemption. I visited Katherine up there in January and got taken in all over again. People are just friendlier up there than they are at UT. Maybe it's something in the water. Walking around, I really could have seen myself as a student there. I got excited again.

When I got the e-mail this afternoon, I cried for the first time in seven years. I got choked up when I was saying goodbye to my mom freshman year, and I teared up at my cousin's wedding, but I haven't had a good cry since freshman year of high school. I was sitting in the Quad studying for my midterm tomorrow morning (oh yeah...), checking my e-mail on my iPhone every two minutes, and when it came, I started shaking so bad I spilled my coffee. It's been a stressful couple weeks, so maybe it was coming anyway, but I'd forgotten how good it feels to just sob. I made it back to my apartment before that started happening, at least.

So, yeah. Post-graduation plans are back to square one.

The Future

Still don't know what I'm doing in three months, but I know what I'm not doing. Teach For America didn't offer me a final interview. ACE still hasn't gotten back to me, but I don't have high hopes for that one anymore. I took the GRE in September, never got my results, called, still didn't get them, called again, still didn't get them. I ended up sending my scores up to Notre Dame without ever having seen them. Finally got them in the mail yesterday, and they're--abysmal. The ACE office is probably gonna laugh and toss my application in the trash. I can't even blame 'em.

I'm more okay with these developments than I thought I'd be. Knowing that I tried to help save the world is just as morally uplifting as spending two years doing it.

I feel like I've spent my entire life with people just a little bit better than me. As great a school as Cistercian is, I was in the bottom half of my class for six years. I'm doing okay at UT, but because I'm in Plan II, the "elite" are still the only people I know - they're smarter than I am, they write better than I do, they're cleverer than I am. Not by a lot, but by enough for it to matter.

That's why I like copy editing so much, I think. I KNOW grammar. It's my forte, it's what I'm good at. People ask me questions and I shoot the answer back without looking up from the Wikipedia article I'm reading. I can plow through eight RIM stories in an hour, and when I'm done, you can scriptset that shit. I make mistakes, sure, but 99% of them come from carelessness, not ignorance. The confidence I feel when I'm adding commas and em dashes and restructuring sentences is something I haven't felt in a long time, if ever.

So--that's what I want to do with my life. Not copy editing, per se, but something where I'm not second-guessing myself on a daily basis. TFA and ACE take the best of the best, and even if I eke my way in, it'll just be more of the same. I'll still be busting my ass to break into the middle of the pack while the guy in front exudes apathetic arrogance and talks about how EASY everything is.

I guess I just want to be that guy. For once.

WTF

Paranormal Activity is the scariest fucking movie I've ever seen.

Back in touch

I love voicemails that start with "I hope this is still your number."