mnvnjnsn's Diary

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Just when I think I can't get any worse, I do.

I think I am literally making myself ill (or, more ill than normal) over this job thing. Had that third interview on Friday, and was told that a decision would be made this week, the chosen one contacted by Friday, and the position would start the following Monday.

I can't sleep with all the reasons they won't pick me banging around in my head. I'm paralyzed by superstitious OCD rituals: listening to the same songs I listened to before the first three interviews, continuing to read the daily emails from Monster and so the gods don't think I'm getting cocky and assuming I've got this job. They know assuming only makes an ass out of u and, uh... Ming.

My stomach is in knots all the time. I don't eat well anyway, and this certainly isn't helping. I'm trying my best not to sleep all day, but all I've managed to do is replace sleeping with making the house messier and checking my email every ten minutes. I feel like that girl-- you know, the one who is constantly wondering "Is he ever going to call??!??!?"

And I feel like that girl who is second-guessing why he hasn't called yet. Was it because I answered X to question Y? Was I too desperate? Too cocky? Is the fact that none of my references has been called a good sign or bad?

And then I go write the whiniest whine in the whole whinefest that is online journalling and I feel even... whinier.

All right. I'm kicking myself in the ass. It's time for action, not words! It's time... to clean up the cat puke. It is the least I can do. No, really. The least. Any less and I am doing nothing.

4:17 p.m. - 2005-08-17


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