I didn't think it could get worse . . .

but it did.

I've still not gotten any calls for interviews, and while I could still get a couple next week, with each day that goes by, I feel that much more discouraged. I guess the good thing is that I have gotten myself to the point where I don't really expect the phone to ring anymore. I'm extremely disappointed and frustrated, but I'm doing my best to accept that it happens. Some of the scholars I respect most in the profession didn't get jobs on their first tries either, so I guess that's not bad company to be in. . . it doesn't make the situation any easier to accept emotionally, but I'm trying not to be completely hopeless. There's a strange surreal quality to the whole thing though--it's like I'm living someone else's nightmare, except that it's really my life.

But what is worse is that today I was meeting with two friends who are also on the market to practice for interviews (which I wasn't all that jazzed about since I don't have any to practice for, but they do and they are my friends--well one is a better friend than the other. . .), so I put on a brave face and went hoping that it would boost my karma or something.

Boy did that backfire. In the middle of our practice session, someone else's phone rings (the girl I am friends with but don't know all that well). Not only did she get an interview, but it was for a job that I had also applied for. I don't begrudge her anything, and she's a very qualified applicant whose work is just very different from mine, but it *really* sucked to be in the room when that happened. I mean, it was one thing when my phone just wasn't ringing, and I knew on some abstract level that other people were getting calls, but this was so much worse. it made the whole dreadful experience all the more real. It was like getting punched in the stomach or just having the wind knocked right out of you. Kinda reminds me of those falls I tok a while back, but on a purely emotional level, if that makes sense.

On top of that, this particular friend is generally clueless so she then started talking about how she didn't think that she would really want the job all that much, but that she'd definitely interview with them, etc., and she's really glad that she's got more than one interview lined up now, blah, blah, blah. Now she didn't know that I had appplied for the job too, but she did know that I have a whopping ZERO interviews, so I wasn't really up for hearing her complain about the fact that she only had the one, because if I did get the one, I'd be pretty psyched. There's a huge difference between zero and one.

Thankfully, my other friend noticed that I had basically clammed up and was trying to make myself evaporate, so she asked if I was okay, and I managed to croak that I had applied for the same job . . . which made the other girl immediately start to say things like, "Well, maybe they'll call you too . . ." (unsurprsingly, they didn't). Part of me is really gald that she felt so terrible about it--it's not her fault, but her general insensitivity about the whole thing was really shocking to me. Maybe now she'll stop her complaining, at least when I'm around, because now I *really* don't want to hear it.

What I find so frustrating is that I know I could do a good job if someone would just give me a chance. The problem is that my project is rather iconclastic, so it doesn't fit into most of the conventional job categories. I know that the work is good, and I know that it makes an important contribution to my field . . . i just need to get in the damned room to convince other people.

But at least the suspense is over for the weekend.

well . . .

got two more rejections today. One of them I wasn't expecting since the school just hired someone else from my program last year, and if they take anyone else from here, I'd like to think that they'll go with my other friend (her husband) . . . The other one was one I had allowed myself to get kind of excited about, but more because of the location of the school than because of the actual job itself. All is not lost (yet), but with each assing day the prognosis for employment and finanical independence grows a little bit bleaker. I guess it wouldn't be horrible to stay here for anther year, but I hate the thought that my life will be on hold for an entire year more . . .

I don't know.
I don' know if I have it in me to do the treadmill of temporary one-year positions all over the place until one of them finally sticks. But i won't go there until I have to. There's still a chance that I will get an inerview. The job that I really want (despite the ick factor of a now-married jackass of an ex-boyfriend who teaches in a different department at the same school), is still in play, and they said they wouldn't notify those who make it to the next stage until mid-December, so that could mean next week on the typical academic clock. I would like to have more than one interview, but beggars can't be choosers, right? If I only get one, at least I'd like it to be for a job that I really want.

Anyway, that's what's going on this week so far. Could be worse . . . but I'm now wishing that I hadn't gone and bought the clothes . . . Thankfully, no matter what happens, I went with the classics, so as long as I stick with my diet, I should be able to wear everything next year . . .

no news is . . .

good news?
or not?

I don't know, but that's where I live these days, in the perpetual state of no news and neurosis. I'm told that the process takes time (we are dealing, after al, with not one academic, but an entire committee of them during the end of semester crunch) and that it's still very early on, but at the same time, I can't help but feel like the premautre purchase of interview attire has just doomed me to no interviews.

I had to go shopping over the weekend, faced with the luxury of both a little bit of free time and some good sale prices, I couldn't just wait and see if the occasion would present itself again. As a grad student, I don't have the luxury of unlimited finances , and on top of that, should I get an interview request, from that moment on, I'll be launched into high stress and pressure prep mode. So I went to the store. Twice. But I found some terrific pieces: a beautiful dark grey pants suit that looks absolutely tailored for me, and better fitting black jacket, a shell in my favorite violet color, and a good deal an a grown-up rolling carry-on suitcase. I liked the violet shell so much that I went back the next day and got the matching cardigan (how is it that I lived into my 30's and never knew the glory of cashmere? Ah yes, you say, you are a grad student and cannot afford cashmere. . . I always admired the colored when I saw it in catalogues--always noticed how the cashmere sweaters were brighter and offered in a much larger color spectrum . . . well, now I'm a believer. I also found (on the clearance rack) the most kick-ass celery colored jacket that one could imagine. Beautiful fabric, another perfect fit--the only slight drawback is that is has a hook & eye instead of a button, making it a bit more casual, but the best part is that it was only $59 (from $219).

Besides, one could make the argument that the process, if it were to be doomed, would have been doomed from the day that I booked the flight back from DC instead of Pittsburgh, thereby setting into motion an entire chain of events that predestined my job hunt to be futile and pointless. I don't really buy into that, but I'm not sure exactly why the suits seem different to my superstitious self.

Anyway, I hope the rest of you are having a better time of it than I am. I hate waiting, and that's what I'm doing. Trying to keep myself busy, but I hate that too. It's exhasting and something about it feels just artificial. But a girl's gotta do what a girl's gotta do.